Moving On
by kennedy ann
Summary: "I remember the sound of her laughter. Before I met her, I never thought a laugh could sound melodious and evil at the same time. I'd do almost anything to hear that sound once more. To be the cause of it… to be the one laughing with her. She was always trying to break free..."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

**Funeral Song**

"I need you to do me a favor, Rachel."

"Of course Quinn, what do you need?"

Every time I try to catch Quinn's glance she pulls her eyes up to the sky, like she is fighting back more tears. I know she's in pain, but she won't tell me what's going on, and I've learned I can only push for so much from her before she pushes me away.

"I'm taking off before the funeral, but I need you to read this to everyone for me."

She hands me a crisp white piece of paper, folded meticulously into thirds. I can see her elegant script through the back side and admire the beauty of her trembling hands as her finger tips graze mine in the exchange.

"When will you be back?" I ask. I'll be leaving in a few weeks for New York City and I have been meaning to ask if she'd like to do something before I go.

"I'm not sure, Rachel."

Her tone is measured and cold, like she is holding onto herself so tightly that the blood circulating through her body can't make its way back to her heart. I haven't seen this Quinn since she lost Beth, and it kills me to see she her retract back to this façade after coming such a long way.

"Okay, well you have my number now… so please just do me the favor of calling me when you get to were ever you are going? I care a great deal about you, Quinn."

She nods, but I know she doesn't actually mean it. Her lie stirs up desperate feelings inside of me. I want to take her in my arms and let her cry into my hair. I want to kiss each trail down her sculpted face until all evidence of sorrow is gone. I reach out to take her pail hand, but as soon as my fingers intertwine with hers they jerk free of my touch and she takes a step back from me.

"Just read the letter, Rachel. That's all I need from you."

I feel a piece of my heart chip somewhere deep within my chest; a place where I've stored my longing for Quinn to accept me all my life. She turns and walks away from me, leaving her last words in my shaking hands.

For some reason, as I helplessly watch her walk out my front door I can just tell, she is walking out of my life. I may never see her again.

"Rachel honey, was that Quinn I just heard?"

"Yes, daddy… she gave me something she wants me to read at the funeral."

My father gives me a sad look of understanding and wraps me up in his embrace. No matter how old I get or how mature I've become I always feel like a helpless child in his arms. I resent that feeling, but don't have the heart to break free of his grasp.

"Well, sweetie… I suggest you let Mrs. Lopez know when we get there that you have a letter to read. It will make the service go smoother."

I nod my head into his chest and fight back my tears. I'm not sure if they are a result of losing Santana to death, or losing Quinn to Santana's death.

* * *

Catholic churches always make me feel like I am being judged from all angles. I was never raised with guilt, as Santana and Quinn were but I have seen how destructive it can be to a person's self image. There are rows upon rows of people staring at my fathers and me. Is it because they are gay and happily married? Is it because I am their child? Is it because I was raised Jewish, I mean the size of my nose is quite the indicator of my heritage? Or is it me they are judging?

Do they know I've had sex before marriage? Do they know I've cheated and I've stolen and I've even sent someone to a crack house only to secure my own future? Can they sense that I harbor feeling of the romantic variety for both men and women? Can they sense that I feel superior to every single one of them in every way possible? I cannot be so sure… but I don't like how easily there hateful stares make me question my validity as a person.

I take a seat in-between my father's near the aisle in the third pew. The Lopez clan sits directly in front of us and I never realized how large my deceased friend's family is. Maribel, Santana's mother is dressed in a black suit; she is majestic sitting rigidly next to her husband, clutching his hand like it's the only thing keeping them together.

Carlos, Santana's older brother is holding an infant in his lap. Santana once confided in me that little Carlito wasn't planned. Her brothers' fiancé was told she couldn't bear children, and during childbirth she gave up her life for his. It hits me that this young man who couldn't be any older than 25 has lost his lover and his baby sister in less than a year. I feel fortunate to have never experienced such loss before.

As I cast my sights from one Lopez to another for several more minutes and I recognize the faces I've seen around town throughout the holidays. Each face is striking and beautiful, but not a single one more beautiful than my fallen friend. Santana was always the most breath taking of anyone I knew. Apart from Quinn, I don't think I'll ever know a beauty as true as Santana was.

The service isn't happy, or uplifting. It's sad and emotionally draining and by the time it's my turn to speak I feel like I have nothing left. But I know Quinn is important to this town and these people, so with the letter grasped tightly in my hand I make my way passed her coffin and to the podium behind it.

The wood grain under my hands feels smooth, like it's been waxed just for this occasion. Every time I look up, the sea of sad faces make me want to break out into mournful song. I have a duty, though. With trembling hands I open up the piece of paper for the first time, and take a much needed breath.

"A letter from Quinn Fabray, to all of you."

My hands are visibly trembling and I can already feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, the sting choking me of my words.

"I miss the way she smelled. Her intoxicating nature made me feel as though I'm hanging from the tail of a plane cruising at 35,000 feet. Her mouth tasted like cinnamon Tic-Tacs, her bite set my lips on fire and her tongue made the roof of my mouth tingle; the sensation akin to a chemical burn.

I remember the sound of her laughter. Before I met her, I never thought a laugh could sound melodious and evil at the same time. I'd do almost anything to hear that sound once more. To be the cause of it… to be the one laughing with her.

I've felt her heart beat, a thousand times. Placed my hands, my ear, and my lips upon her chest and felt the not so steady thump of her heart trying to break free. She was always trying to break free.

I've spoken to her about anything and everything. I've called her name in surprise, in excitement, in love and in anger. Especially anger… I've made promises to her and I've kept secrets. I've hid her demons and boxed up her baggage. I've loved her so fiercely; it's stripped me of myself in ways that shouldn't be possible. She shouldn't be possible.

But she was possible, and she was mine. And not a single person knew of our love, because I was too afraid of what the world would say. I hid our love so well. I fooled the entire world into thinking she meant nothing to me, when in reality she was my world. Because of my crippling fear, the world will never get to see how much we loved each other. How beautiful we were together and how perfectly we fit. I found my twin flame, and now fate has burned me with her absence.

I cannot face you all; I cannot face what I have done. I made this amazing person live a lie, all because she loved me and I loved her. She has been taken from all of us now, and I am angry with myself for letting it happen. I am eternally sorry, but just know that I will never stop paying for this. I owe everyone in her life my sincerest apology. -Quinn"

I can no longer control the emotions coursing through my body. As the tears pour out from my eyes I feel the words I want the world to hear begging to be heard. Are they from Quinn to Santana? From me to Quinn? I am not so sure…

"_Light reflects from your shadow,_

_It's more than I thought could exist._

_You move through the room like breathing was easy,_

_If someone believed me_

_They would be as in love with you as I am._

_They would be as in love with you as I am._

_They would be as in love with you as I am._

_They would be in love, love, love._

_And every day I am learning about you_

_The things that no one else sees._

_And the end comes too soon_

_Like dreaming with angels_

_And leaving without them._

_And leaving without them._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love, love, love._

_Love, love, love._

_Love, love, love._

_And with words unspoken_

_A silent devotion_

_I know you know what I mean._

_And the end is unknown_

_But I think I'm ready_

_As long as you are with me._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love with you as I am._

_Being as in love, love, love."_

The last note rings out for what feels like a century. I have no more breathe, and I feel as though I might fall over in exhaustion. The faces of all my glee friends and their families look how I feel, and it's almost comforting that I am not along in this. Almost.

Gathering my composure, I refold the letter and make my way back to my family. They look proud of me, which makes me feel even sicker.

For the rest of the service I find myself counting the days until I get out of Lima, Ohio. Selfishly I wish for a better card dealt to me then Santana. She found love, and look where that got her…

* * *

The wake is filled with people of all races, ages, and persuasions; people from the church, glee members, relatives that live out in California all coming together to celebrate Santana's life. It took our only common bond in this whole worlds' death to bring us together and I find the principal heart breaking.

I'm sipping my 3rd glass of wine on one of the many couches in the Lopez house. Mercedes is sitting silently next to me, holding Sam's hand like it's her life line. Where is mine? Can I poll the audience? Maybe ask them how I am supposed to feel about all this? Can I phone a friend?

With that thought I reach into my purse to see if Quinn has called or texted me yet. When I am met with no new messages I hastily send a text to my father's letting them know I'm going out with the rest of glee club after the wake.

"So… Sam, have you decided if you'll be staying at McKinley next year?"

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: No, it's not a repost. **

**Also, sorry for the Hetero in this chapter. I feel like it's necessary to the story, even if it grosses me out.**

**C****hapter 2:**

**Stuck in a rut**

As I enter my apartment I can smell garlic sizzling and Armani, my boyfriends' cologne.

"Rachel, is that you?"

"Yes!" I call out, kicking off my pumps and hanging my rain coat on the hook by the door jam.

"Kurt said to tell you he is picking you up at 9 sharp and you better have on your 'Friday night best'. His words, not mine."

Brody is chopping up some shallots; there is a glass of red wine on the counter next to him and an open beer. I grab the glass of wine and kiss his cheek in thanks before I make my way to our bedroom to start getting ready for Kurt's party.

"I still can't believe he's taking over already. I mean he barely even has 4 years working for them and he's still got so much to learn about corporate fashion. It seems like just yesterday we were eating ramen on the floor of our first apartment…" I say, pulling my shirt from my body.

I peel my black leggings down my legs and throw them into the hamper by my closet. As I make my way to my vanity I can see Brody leaning against the door jam to our bedroom. He is staring at me with hunger in his eyes, and I can already see a bulge forming in his pants.

"Not tonight, babe. You're going to burn dinner if you don't get back in there." I can't help that I'm not in the mood. It's not like I don't want to have sex. On the contrary, I constantly want to be physical but the longing just seems to disappear whenever we are in the same room these days.

"Rachel, we haven't been together in ages. Hearing 'no' is starting to get tiring, you know?" he sounds disgruntled, and I understand completely. It's taken all I have not to jump my yoga instructor or the bell boy or even that cute girl at Salad Works and that's just today. I want to want Brody, I really do! But every time I even think about intercourse with him I get nauseas.

"A few weeks does not qualify as 'ages', Brody. " I say using air quotes for good measure. I can feel his presence behind me before I feel his hand wrap around my hip and sneak its way into my folds. His chest is pressed against my back and I can't help but sigh at the physical contact he's providing to my clit.

"It's been two months, Rachel." He says, he sounds desperate and it makes me feel like the worlds worse girlfriend. He gathers the little bit of wetness he finds between my legs on his finger tips and circles my clit slowly. The friction feels so good I shutter and press myself harder into his hand. He takes this as a welcome sign and uses his hand to seal himself to my backside. I feel his bulge grow harder and he slowly starts grinding it into the small of my back.

I close my eyes and just let him do what he needs to satisfy himself for now. His fingers start to wander again and once he's found more wetness he goes back to making tight circles around my hardening clit. It's been so long since I've allowed him to touch me. I can actually feel my body responding to his touch, which amazes me slightly.

With his other hand I feel him unbutton his pants and pull himself out. He is so hard when he presses into me his cock spreads my ass cheeks. His circles fall back into pace once more and I almost call the whole thing off when he pushes me over my vanity, face first onto my basket of various lipsticks; but he's right, it has been two months.

He rubs the head of his dick along my entrance and its actually long and hard enough this time to reach my clit. He retracts his fingers and gently grabs my hip. He makes a few moans as he figure-eights my entrance a few times with his cock. I anticipate him each time, preparing my body to take him in.

"Rachel…" he whimpers. I find myself give a frustrated sigh at this man. If he doesn't make me come, or at least fuck me till he comes and then lets me get ready, I might just blow up at him.

"Rachel I'm so hard for you…" I feel him shutter as he circles my clit with his head again.

"Well fuck me already, then." I say, frustrated beyond a point I'd care to be.

I feel him push inside of me, and it hurts a bit. He's gentle at first, but it doesn't take long before he's forgotten about me and my face as it repeatedly smacks into my vanity. It doesn't even feel good at this point and I find myself counting his thrusts to pass the time.

After 57 'Barbra Streisands' he's pulled out and launched his come on the small of my back.

"Did you come?" he asks, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, sure did. I'm going to go take a shower, go take care of dinner. It's going to burn soon." I make my escape into our bathroom and lock the door. I reach behind myself and wipe his semen off my back, trying my best to keep from vomiting at the feel of it in my hand. I turn the shower head on to a scorching temperature with my clean hand and let the water strip the evidence from my skin.

The burning liquid ignites my skin and once I've rinsed every trace of his semen from my body I start my shower routine.

"_I feel her filth in my bones,  
Wash off my hands till it's gone.  
The walls they're closing in  
With velvet curtains._

_Some love was made for the light_  
_Some kiss your cheek and goodnight._  
_Lift up a red high heel;_  
_Lock up your doors with steel._

_They're makin noise in my street;_  
_My blinds are drawn I can't see._  
_Smashed in my car window._  
_Didn't touch the stereo._

_Slow it down, Angie come back to bed._  
_Rest your arms, and rest your legs…"_

I turn off the shower head and reach for my towel, hanging just within reach of the tub. As I dry my body and wrap up my hair I let my mind drift off into a day-dream.

"_Act like you've been here before,  
Smile less and dress up some more.  
Tie up your scarf real tight;  
These boys are out for blood tonight._

_Slow it down, Angie come back to bed._  
_Rest your arms, and rest your legs…"_

I exit the bathroom and quickly make my way to my dresser, pulling out a g-string and matching bra.

_"And when she stood she stood tall  
She'll make a fool of you all.  
Don't ask for cigarettes  
She ain't got nothin left for you._

_I never, she never, we never looked back;_  
_That wasn't what we were good at._  
_And when it came to love_  
_We were not good enough._

_Slow it down, Angie come back to bed._  
_Rest your arms, and rest your legs._  
_Don't you frown when you're feelin like that_  
_Only love can dig you out of this."_

"Were you just singing The Lumineers?"

Brody's presence shocks me and I quickly re wrap the towel I dropped around myself and nod.

"That's a pretty old song… I'm surprised I even recognized it. Where have I heard that before?" he asks, handing me a topped off glass of red wine.

"Um… Quinn. It's on one of the mixed CD's I found at Santana's house. I was just listening to it the other day… so…" I awkwardly took a large gulp from my glass and rushed back into the bathroom with my undergarments secured under my arm. I can't figure out why I feel so out of sorts around him these days. It's like we are at a stalemate, and letting him fuck me seemed to only make it worse on my end.

"Thanks for the wine." I throw over my shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with him. Once I lock the bathroom door once more I release a strangled breath I'd been holding. After downing the rest of my glass I brush my teeth and start putting on my bra.

"Rachel, dinners ready!" hearing his voice startles me in a way I can't come to terms with and I rush to do the clasp on my bra.

"I'm not dressed yet, give me a few!" I call out, taking a few breaths to stabilize myself.

"I have no problem with you eating naked, babe. Get out here before it gets cold!"

"Classy." I mumble to myself. Walking out of my bathroom I pull my silk robe on and throw my hair into a quick bun, just to keep it out of my face.

"Coming…" I call out, non to happy about eating in next to nothing.

"Not yet, you aren't." I hear him say, his smirk transcending into the tone of his voice. Before I know it he's lifted me off the floor and planted me on our bed. My robe has loosened enough to expose my bra clad breasts and his hand it feasting on them before I can even object.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard. You are so damn sexy, Rachel."

He is kissing me, pawing at my legs and rubbing himself against my underwear . I swear we just did this not an hour ago and the only thing keeping me for pushing him off me is the fight that would follow if I did.

"You like it when I rub myself against you, right Rachel? Does it make you want me?"

No. No it doesn't. It makes me want to puck, actually.

"Yeah, babe. You feel great."

"Tell me you want me inside of you."

I don't want you inside of me, at all.

"I want you inside of me."

Before I'm even done repeating what he wants to hear he has slipped my g-string to the side and is pushing inside of me again. He's sweating already and I start to lose respect for myself for doing this. I'm not wet, and he's big and stretching me even though he knows this hurts me.

He pushes my legs around his waist and I thank god for it because at least in this position he hits my clit and make something feel enjoyable. After 10 minutes of him moving in and out of me he's still hard and hasn't come. Thankfully I'm nice and wet and imagining my redheaded yoga instructor fucking me in downward dog when I get my thankful release. He doesn't stop when I come down from orgasm, as if he didn't even notice my body tense up and then relax. I lie there letting him fuck me like I'm a blow up doll and when he finally comes, this time inside of me, I send out a very grateful thank you to who ever invented birth control.

"That was so good, baby. Why don't we do this every day like we use to?"

Because it makes me feel disgusting?

"I don't know, honey. I guess I've just been really tired lately." He's lying on top of me, my hips pinned to the bed with his dick still inside me. I can actually feel it getting soft and small and I fight back tears.

"I love you, Rachel." He says gently. I look over at the clock and realize that took almost 30 minutes of my life away.

"Get off me, I have to re-shower and get ready and only have an hour to do so."

"But, what about dinner?" he asks, finally pulling out and rolling off of me.

"I don't have time. I'll eat something at the party."

I lock myself in my bathroom for the third time tonight and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look thoroughly fucked, and I feel repulsed by it.

"What the hell am I doing here?" I ask myself. I turn the shower back on and let myself cry as I wash every inch of myself for the second time tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**Surprise... Surprise...**

The work space of is dressed to the nines. There are beautiful people in glamorous fashion crawling their way through the room, various drinks being sipped and hors d'oeuvres hardly being eaten. I have never been so impressed by Kurt in my life.

I see my best friend standing in the middle of the room, he is the center of attention and I just know this is his time. I catch his eye and wink at him, raising my glass in a silent salute to how proud I am of his hard work. I know when I get cast the lead of my first Broadway Musial he will be there for me and will be equally as supportive.

I've only been here an hour but I feel like I've made more contacts in the last 15 minutes then my whole time at NYADA.

"So, Ms. Berry, please do tell me what you are up to as of late! I haven't seen you since New York Fashion Week 2015!"

I can't remember this tiny old queen for the life of me, but I play it off, as any actress should.

"Oh, I've been dabbling in bits and pieces! Let's see, I just finished recording last month and that took up quite some time-"

"Recording! Oh, my! You will always remember your first album; I tell you some of the best times of your life. When is it scheduled to be released?"

"Um… well it's not mine, actually. I was doing a favor for my old high school friend, Mercedes. She needed someone to sing some power backup vocals on her new album and I just couldn't resist lending a hand." I say modestly. Truth is, she did me the favor. I am no closer to recording my own music then I was in high school.

"Oh, well. What other projects do you have going on then?" the little turtle asks.

"Um, I've been taking some classes… you know. Ah, I've had some auditions lately… this one workshop I auditioned for seems quite promising."

I sound pathetic, I am sure of it. As if this night couldn't get any worse…

"Well, that sounds lovely, Ms. Berry. If you would excuse me…"

I drain the rest of my champagne with a smile and watch the annoying midget from hell pounce on another unsuspecting woman.

"Rachel, come here. There is someone I'd love to introduce you to." Kurt links his arms through mine and takes my empty glass, replacing it with a full one. I'm not going to complain, having worked up a nice buzz from the expensive spirit.

"Kurt, I've already met like, 100 people tonight. I really don't want to have to explain my not-so-promising future to any more of your fancy colleagues…"

"Oh trust me, you'll want to met her; I've been saving this one for a bit now. Are you tipsy?" Kurt asks.

"Honestly? I've had a terrible night. So yes, I am a smidge buzzed." I concede.

"Good, you'll need to be. So why has your night been so terrible? Trouble in paradise with Brody-Pants?"

"God, it's terrible. I forced myself to have sex with him tonight. Twice. And I really feel like such a disappointment to myself."

"I don't understand why you stayed with him after graduation. That relationship served it's purposes and now you both need to find something better."

"Hey! What's better than me?" I ask, slightly peeved by his brash comment.

"No, honey you misunderstand. You aren't good for him anymore. You're not in love with him, hell you pretty much resent him for his success… it's time to cut the cord."

I know what he's saying is true but I can't help but fight it.

"But that's my home, and we worked so hard to build a life together and-"

"And nothing, Rachel. Just think about it."

I nod and break eye contact with him. He always makes me feel like I'm back in freshman year of college, desperately trying to hold onto Finn for all the wrong reasons. A part of me even knows I'm doing to same exact thing with boyfriend number 2, but I still can't admit it.

We've come to a stop near the perimeter of the party and I down my flute of champagne in one gulp, head tilled back, hoping to keep myself in that blissfully fuzzy state. When I lower my empty glass I am face to face with a set of hazel eyes so familiar to me I almost lose my breath.

"Rachel Berry, please meet my newest photographer, Ms. Lucy Fabray."

I'm speechless. I'm thoughtless. I have no words for once in my life and no matter how desperately I search for some they keep on evading me.

"Hey, Rachel."

Her voice is as calm and smooth as a block of ice. Her gaze leaves mine for a split second, scanning its way down my body and back up to lock on my eyes once more. I feel like I'm back in high school and she is about to spit out a nasty comment on my sweater or my hair, my body tenses up as a reaction.

"You look, amazing."

Did she really just say that? Did Quinn-fucking-Fabray just pay me a complement?

"Thanks, Quinn. You look just as stunning as I remember you…" I manage to mumble out. Both her a Kurt stifle a laugh at my expense and I can feel my face grow warm to the touch.

"I'll leave you ladies to catch up." I shoot Kurt the most hateful glare I can muster as he walks away.

"Relax, Rachel… I don't bite…" she says. Her tone is friendly, but her eyes make me feel uncertain. I feel myself growing even hotter at the visual of Quinn raking her teeth down my neck and I look away in mild embarrassment.

"Hey. Why don't we get out of here and grab a drink, all of these beautiful people make me feel uncomfortable to be around."

"You're the most stunning person in the room; you have no right feeling that way…" I mumble. I wasn't suppose to say that out loud, but the way it's made Quinn turn a delicate shade of pink makes me feel slightly better.

"Come on." She says, taking my hand in hers. I follow her through the maze of people, admiring how her emerald green dress makes the skin of her left arm look flawless. I'm equally shocked and aroused by the sight of her right arm, which is completely filled with bright designs and colors.

We make it into the elevator and as the door closes I feel Quinn's thumb caress the back of my hand subconsciously. My head snaps to the right and I see her fighting back a coy smile at my sudden reaction. I untangle my hand from hers and wipe away the moisture that accumulated on it. Everything about Quinn makes me nervous, at least that hasn't changed from high school.

"So…" I mumble in my unsuccessful attempt to stifle the awkwardness.

"Rachel, there is no need to be nervous. I'm not a serial killer."

How does she not realize I'd feel safer in a horror movie then I do in an elevator with her?

"Rachel!" she's stepped in front of me and when she lifts my chin up to meet her gaze I feel my skin break out in shivers. Her hazel eyes have lightened since I last looked into them, they almost match her dress and I comment as such.

"Thanks… I guess…" she says awkwardly. Her hand is still resting on my chin and I can smell her perfume. It's light, with a hint of citrus and I unconsciously lean into her touch to capture more of it.

Her eyes scan my face and land near the corner on my mouth. She's biting her lip and I feel the air being sucked out of the small space, making me feel light headed.

BING

The sound startles me enough to take a step back, effectively ending whatever moment we were just sharing.

"Come on, I know a little dive bar right around the corner. No one will bother us there." She says holding out her hand once more. I opt not to take it this time and walk past her and out of the elevator. I reach the door first and feel a small hand on my back as I walk through it, casually thanking the door man for his service. When I look behind my shoulder I see a smiling Quinn and it hits me. This is Quinn. Quinn Fabray, the girl I thought I'd never see again.

"What are you doing?" I ask. I sound a bit hostile but I feel I have a right to be after all these years.

"I am guiding you to the bar I just mentioned… it's right this way." She calmly explains. No, that is not okay. You don't get to be calm and collected Quinn, because I'm no longer excited and spastic Rachel. It's not going down like that this time.

"I changed my mind. I don't want to go anywhere with you."

"Rachel, please let me buy you a drink. We have so much to catch up on."

"No! We shouldn't have anything to catch up on, but you left! I finally had you in my life, even if it was in the smallest way possible and you left and you didn't come back for 5 years and now you just expect to buy me a drink like you never disappeared? No."

"Rachel, please. Let me explain when we get to the bar."

"No, Quinn! I don't want to hear your explanation! I don't want to know how you could just up and leave after Santana's death, like we all meant nothing to you. If you really loved her the way you claimed to have you never would have left!"

SLAP

The sting on the left side of my face prickles. It's not the worst slap I've received from Quinn, but it's filled with enough rage to make me feel terrible for what I just said.

"Oh my god, Rachel. I am so sorry… I'm so very sorry." She's covering her face with her hands and she looks like she's about to face a murder charge.

"That's not the first time I've been slapped and most likely not the last. It's fine. I'm sorry for… what I said. I shouldn't have… you know."

Have I ever mentioned how much I despise silence? I clear my throat to fill it with some sound, but it only serves to make me feel worse about the situation.

"Um, if you'd still like to get that drink… yeah." Quinn looks like she's weighing her options and I don't blame her after the emotional wall I just backed her into.

"Sure. It's… it's right over here."

We walk the rest of the block in silence and I nervously look her way every few steps to confirm she's still next to me. As we turn the corner she steps in front of me and opens the door to a small hole in the wall called Burpies.

"Classy." I scoff and make my way to a small high top table in the back corner of the bar.

"I'll order us some drinks, make yourself comfortable."

I take a seat against the wall and scan my surrounding area. There aren't many people in attendance and they all seem to be minding their own business. There is an older lady at the bar watching a Yankees game and the bartender keeps checking out Quinn as she mixes our drinks. There is a young woman and an older woman hollowed up in a booth together stealing kisses back and forth and a table of college kids playing a drinking game with a tray of shots, a few with crew cuts.

"Did you bring me to a lesbian bar?" I ask Quinn as she puts down our drinks in front of me.

"Um, yeah. I didn't think you would mind. Roxy pours a mean martini."

"Oh I don't mind. I mean, apart from my two gay dad's I take part in our pride parade every year, my best friend is gay and hell I slept with a couple of women during college so I definitely don't feel uncomfortable or out of place in-"

I have a finger touching my lips. Quinn is touching my lips…

"You haven't changed one bit, Rachel. Well… you have, but in all the best ways."

She removes her index finger from my lips, but I can still feel her touch lingering. She's breath taking in the low barroom light, and her eyes light up with mirth when she catches me staring at her lips.

"So." Her curt tone of voice snaps me out of my haze.

"How have you been?"

How have I been? Really? That's all you got? How precious…

"I've been… better, honestly."

"Tell me about it, I'd like to know all about the new and improved Rachel Berry."

She's two thirds of the way done with her martini and I haven't even touched mine. I reach out for it and my hand casually brushes hers.

"Well." I take a large gulp of the briny vodka for some courage and decide not to hold back any punches. She's the one who asked…

"I graduated from NYADA last year but had hit my peek in only sophomore year. I got a small part in an Off Broadway show that only lasted about a month and ever since then I can't hold down a part for the life of me. I've auditioned for everything on the island and even some touring shows but I just don't "fit" the lead part and my voice is "too big" to be in a chorus line.

"I'm stuck in a dead end relationship with the first guy I ever kissed at college and I cannot even stand the sight of him. It doesn't help that he is currently playing the part of the Phantom on Broadway or that he pays for absolutely everything or that I haven't been able to sleep with him without fantasizing about someone else for two years or-"

"Rachel, I get it. You're kind of lost right now… and trust me I know how that feels. When I left Lima I roomed from city to city trying to figure out what it is I'm suppose to do in this world. It took a really long time before I got to that answer and even longer before I got my big break. "

Sometime during the conversation Quinn's' hand had found mine. Her fingers starting to trace soft patterns up my fingers and around my wrist and I find myself so captivated by it that I let the silence go on, happy to watch her fingers graze my skin for what feels like an hour or so. It amazes me how such an innocent touch from her can make my body respond is such aggressive ways, yet having sex with Brody makes me want to never have sex again.

"Do you want another drink?" Quinn asks me softly. Her fingers have danced their way up my forearm and I'm completely enraptured by her art work I almost don't even answer.

"Sure…"

"Would you like another martini? Or… I have a nice bottle of wine back at my flat… it's not too far from here. We could take a cab, maybe?"

I want to say yes. I want to yell it; I want to do anything that will keep me in the presence of this woman. This beautiful woman I know so much, yet so little about.

"Yeah… let me just hit the ladies room and we can go." I say with small smile. Once I make it into the handicap stall I pull out my phone and send off a quick text to Kurt.

**Rachel: Staying the night at Quinn's. Vouch for me?**

**Kurt: get it girl!**

**Rachel: Shut up, it's not even like that.**

**Kurt: love you, honey**.

I quick dial Brody's cell, hoping he's asleep and it goes to voice mail.

_Hey, you've reached Brody, leave me a message and I'll call back if I like you!_

"Hi, I'm a little drunk and I'm staying with Kurt tonight. I'll send you a text tomorrow afternoon."

I turn off my phone and make my way out of the stall. After a quick fix of my makeup and hair I make my way back to Quinn and smile when I see her waiting by the door, a taxi sitting outside for us.

"Thanks." I mumble softly as she opens the door for me. I make my way into the back seat of the cab and as soon as Quinn is sitting next to me I feel her presence ignite me in ways I haven't felt since high school.

"Intersection between Greenwich and Reade, please." The cab takes off as soon as Quinn shuts her door and I feel her hand resting on my knee gently, burning against my skin.

"You live in Tribeca… really?"

"Oh come on, we all know I was quite the pressed lemon back in high school. It was only a matter of time before I blew out of that closet."

I snicker, because it's true. Between the teenage pregnancy and her hatred for every girl who ever got even the slightest bit more attention than her, Quinn was so clearly repressed it was almost comical in hindsight.

The remainder of the cab ride was spent poking fun at my blond friend and her high school self. I never thought the Quinn Fabray I knew would ever be this honest and open about herself with me. I find it refreshing and utterly attractive. As if I needed to find anything more about Quinn attractive…


End file.
